


The Art of Breathing

by Crash (theyllek)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 09:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyllek/pseuds/Crash
Summary: SG1 and Janet Frasier run into some trouble on their way back to the gate.Written for elements challenged posted on Tok'ra Flats.  I chose number three and got the element of Air.





	The Art of Breathing

* * *

 

"You know how people say you can't live without love. Well, oxygen is even more important." -Dr. Greg House, House M.D. Episode: "Acceptance"

"Family isn't about whose blood you have, it's about who you care about. And that's why I feel like you guys are more than just friends. You're my family."  
Kyle Broflovski, South Park, Ike's Wee Wee, 1998

 

* * *

 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."  
  
I jump, water sloshing out of my canteen and over my hand soaking my pants leg. I glare at the other people in our camp and then upward as the perpetrator saunters past. He plasters a look of innocence on his face as he settles down next to his pack.  
  
"And why would I not want to do this?" I wave my canteen and ration heater at him.  
  
"Trust me on this one Doc, the chicken and rice is better cold." He grins, picking up  
his now hot entrée from the rock he propped it up against earlier. "Actually, all of the chicken dishes are better cold. Way back when you all were still in high school, they used to have chicken a-la-king. Now, that," He stabbed his spoon at us, "was fine dining in the field."  
  
"Oh you got him going now Janet."  
  
I turn to look at Daniel, who's staring intently at the contents of his pouch, poking at it suspiciously with his spoon.  
  
"Any moment now he'll start waxing poetic about metal canteens and how the telegraph was a great method of communication."  
  
I hear someone choke and whip around in time to see Teal'c whack Sam on the back. Sam coughs a few times and wipes at her eyes nodding that she's okay.  
  
Daniel spoke again, stirring the still unseen food around in the pouch, "See what you gotta understand Janet, is that Jack here, thinks he's some type of inventor or something, like that Legend guy on TV."  
  
I have the feeling that I'm missing out on something.  
  
The Colonel stopped eating and sat his food down. "Legend wasn't an inventor, he was the hero. Q, he was the inventor."    
  
"No sir, Q was in Star Trek." Sam managed to squeak out rubbing at her neck.  
  
"O'Neill, Janos Bartok was the inventor in Legend, portrayed by John de Lancie, who also played Q in Star Trek: The Next Generation." Teal'c answers, nodding at the end and resuming his meal.  
  
"Same difference, anyway, just be careful Janet, next thing we know Jack might be trying to pass himself off as a doctor." Daniel rolls his eyes, and finally brings a spoonful of food up to his mouth, shoving it in and swallowing before the spoon was out of his mouth.  
  
"Don't mind them Doc, they have this fleeting obsession that I look just like some actor." He grins: a very cheesy one at that and rifles through the assorted packets on the ground next to him.    
  
We're on PHX - 602, or Phoenix as the Colonel likes to refer to it, for a medical knowledge exchange between the Javeetes and us; an entire week of exchanging, procedures, techniques, and medications. I don't get to go offworld very much. The usual mandatory offworld readiness training sessions and the occasional medical emergency, but this, this is a treat.  
  
I wasn't the only one involved though, SG-1 was involved too, each of them getting to spend their time learning and teaching as well. And, as much as I would like to stay and learn more, I'm ready to go home, even if it means the two day hike to the gate.  
  
I finally get around to ripping the top off my entree pouch, thinking of trying it the Colonel's way and eating it cold. Looking inside however, I'm not sure it would matter. A congealed mass of rice and green, orange, and red flecks of something slide off the inner walls as I pull it open. Not all that great to look at, and it could be alive. I find my spoon, heavy duty plastic and dirt brown in color, stab at the contents a few times, working up the courage to take a bite.  
  
It's not that bad. Kind of good to be honest and I find that scary.  I continue on, trying not to put too much thought into what my food actually looks like. The rest of camp has continued on with their meals, and their conversation. Even Teal'c, who I usually see sitting back and observing, is participating. It's a lopsided conversation though, Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c against the Colonel. He's denying everything that the other three say.  
  
"We'll get Janet's opinion, four people can't be wrong." I look up at Sam's mentioning of my name.  
  
"My opinion? On what?"  I eye the three of them carefully, trying to figure out what I'm going to be dragged into.  
  
Tossing an elongated brown packet of something to the Colonel, Daniel speaks first, "Doesn't Jack look like Richard Dean Anderson? You know the guy who played Macgyver, and Nicodemus Legend."  
  
"Do not forget he also played Dr. Jeff Webber on General Hospital." Teal'c pipes in. The stuff he knows astounds me.  
  
"Teal'c how did you know that? That was back in the seventies?" Sam asked, picking up her trash and tossing a packet at the Colonel just like Daniel had.  
  
"IMDB.com" He answers proudly, causing the other two to laugh. The Colonel has a smirk on his face, thoroughly enjoying what was going on, even if it was focused on him.  
  
"Hmmm." I take a gander at the good Colonel. "Nah, I don't see it."  
  
"Thank you Doc." The Colonel says loudly and getting to his feet. He grabs Daniel's and his cup and crosses the few feet to the fire filling them with hot coffee. "Now, maybe they will find something else to spend their time pondering."  
  
There're some snorts and muttered comments from the offended parties but nothing more is said on the subject. Daniel is still poking at his dinner; he's taken a couple of bites, but has a scared look on his face. He gives it a stir then looks over at the Colonel.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"Yes Daniel?" The Colonel answered but didn't look up from what he was doing. His combat knife was in his left hand and he held a packet in his right. The 'tear here' strip must have malfunctioned.  
  
"Who decided that chili and macaroni was a good combination?"  
  
Colonel O'Neill laughed, an outright full laugh that I don't think I've ever heard come from him and he tosses a little bottle of Tabasco sauce at Daniel.  
  
The rest of the evening went by quickly, we talked about the last week and about what we were going to do on downtime once we returned. And, as much as I wanted to get back to earth and have a nice long hot shower, a real meal, and spend time with my daughter, I didn't want to leave. It was nice to see SG1 relaxed, having fun, and including me in everything without a second thought. I loved being apart of it.  
  
It gets dark early here on Phoenix, cold too. I shiver as I shrug into my jacket. The Colonel is policing trash and Sam and Daniel are setting up one of the two tents. Teal'c and I are sent after firewood to last the rest of the night, with orders to get back before the street lights come on. Like I said, I was included in everything. I mean it too. And seeing as I just ate, I think I'll leave the details out.  
  
We were back with plenty of time to spare and the Colonel gave us a look of approval at the lot of wood we brought back. We finished readying the camp for the night. Colonel O'Neill and Daniel argued as they set up the second tent.  They have a very odd relationship.  
  
They settled down, eventually, and retook the seats they had during dinner. I wasn't sure what to do. Daniel was writing in his journal, as small light clipped to the hard cover to illuminate the page. Sam was fiddling with her PDA. Teal'c was meditating, I think. And the Colonel, the true enigma of SG1, he appeared to be doing nothing. He was leaning back against his pack, legs outstretched in front of him crossed at the ankle.  
I'd tell you something wise that some old relative told me once, but to be honest, I usually tuned them out. So I'm stuck with an over used and tuckered out cliché, appearances are deceiving. The Colonel, famous for telling Sam and Daniel to stop thinking, never stopped himself; an overactive, brilliant mind hidden behind the "what-a-maroon" facade that we let him get away with.  
  
The Colonel never did nothing. Always observing, planning, mulling something over. I try to be discrete as I watch him from my seat. It's a challenge as the only thing I'm doing is drinking coffee from a thin metal cup. I give it the occasional slosh around, hoping that maybe it will be the magic slosh that erases the taste of whatever was heated in it last. Metal doesn't hold taste they say. Bullshit.  
  
His head whips in my direction, and I feel heat rising up my neck as I realize I may have uttered that last sentiment out loud. I duck my head, trying to figure out if it's possible to shrink and dive into my drink. My head still down, I look up and try to focus on him, making my eyeballs hurt. Swirling his own cup, he toasts it towards me and takes a drink before resuming his reconnaissance.  
  
I watched as he visually swept over the camp before he retrieved more coffee. Settling back once again, sidling down a little more than before, propped up just enough to be able to drink, but laid back enough to easily look at the sky. It wasn't dark enough for stargazing, but sunsets on this planet were amazing. But you didn't want to look in direction of the sun; the sky was much more impressive with the sun at your back.  
  
I didn't realize how long we had all just been sitting here until I took a drink. Cold, overly bitter coffee, with a hint of previously hot food and metallic flavor covered my tongue and I can't force myself to swallow it.  Spitting it out behind me, I empty my cup as well and turn back to find the Colonel looking at me. Devious smirk and all. Jerk.  
  
"All right campers, that's it for the night." He inspects his mug then flings it off to the side, the drops of liquid glinting in the fire's light. "Keep the fire going and warm your feet. Doc, you're up first, then Carter. Teal'c I'll wake you, Daniel you're up for coffee and please, let's go for drinkable, not death by coffee."  
  
Watch orders dealt out Colonel O'Neill nods good night to everyone then slips into one of the tents. Daniel follows him a few minutes later, commenting loudly and in jest, "Jack, that's my side of the bed."    
  
Sam giggled as she walked over to me and handed me her P90 before retiring to the tent she'd initially be sharing with Teal'c. We only brought two, two person tents with us. The Navy calls it hot bunking, but I don't think there is an Air Force term for it. It's an apt and welcome term on Phoenix though. A body warmed sleeping bag to crawl into after sitting outside for two cold hours.  
  
I move away from the camp a little way, far enough that the fire doesn't impede my night vision as much and hunker down into my jacket, hoping that the next two hours go by quickly.

 

* * *

 

Damn Daniel and his coffee addiction. Okay, so it's really not all his fault. I'm addicted to it just as much as he and the rest of SG1 are. But it's colder than a witch's tit outside my sleeping bag and I really don't want to get up. However, a cold and wet sleeping bag followed by early morning embarrassment and life long torment is not on my list of things to acquire on this mission, so I give in. Reluctantly, I stick one arm out, blindly patting around to find my jacket.  
  
"Shit." I found my jacket but in the process accidentally smacked the person who is sleeping next to me in the face. Due to multiple rounds of musical sleeping bags I haven't a clue who is next to me. I wasn't bitten so it's not Sam. The lack of raised tattoo on the forehead eliminates Teal'c.  So, I've either smacked Daniel, who would be out like the dead and never notice, or I just hit my commanding officer.  
  
I open my eyes and bring my head out from under covers. It doesn't take long for my eyes to adjust and it wasn't Daniel next to me. I wince as I realize that I just whacked the Colonel in the face with the back of my hand. Either he didn't notice, or he's playing opossum. He moves around, nylon swishing accompanies the movement, but settles down without waking. Hopefully it won't bruise and no one will be the wiser.  
  
I hurry up and get out of the tent, slipping into my boots but leaving them untied. Daniel and Teal'c are up, Daniel making the requisite coffee and Teal'c is doing his morning kata routine. Motioning in the direction of the established latrine I moved off to take care of business.  
  
There's a bit of fog low on the ground as I head back to camp. I take my time, taking in the alien, yet familiar surroundings. For all these alien worlds, so many of them look like Colorado, making it easy to let your guard down. I pick up the pace a little bit having no desire to have Teal'c or Daniel coming to look for me if I was taking too long. And the smell of coffee that came on the wind was starting to get to me.  
  
I stopped short of actually entering camp. Something was wrong. It wasn't silent any more. The sounds of the fire and morning animal calls were joined with grunts and rustling. Teal'c was no longer going through his morning routine, instead his eyes were focused on the tent where the Colonel still slept. Daniel was sipping his coffee, absently, his attention focused on his friend.  
  
"It does not happen often. Only when O'Neill feels safe does his unconscious wage battle."  Teal'c's low voice scared the pee wadden out of me. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He gave a nod and placing a hand on my shoulder we both turned our attention back to camp.  
  
With a squelched shout it all stopped.  
  
Daniel's shoulders slumped like a marionette. The heavy hand on my shoulder lightened and a rush of air left my lungs leaving me feeling strangely deflated. I felt like an outsider for the first time on this mission.  
  
I startled again at the abrupt movement of Colonel O'Neill exiting his tent and half running half staggering over to the brush line. Inevitably the sound of retching reached its way across the camp to us. I wanted to move, to help him but Teal'c's hand on my shoulder prevented me from leaving.  
  
"Do not worry DoctorFrasier, DanielJackson will handle this. All will be well."  
  
I looked up at him once again, studying his face to see if he was telling the truth. It was as stoic always but his eyes were soft and kind. He nodded his head in the direction the Colonel had gone and I turned to look.  
  
Daniel was standing next to the Colonel offering him a canteen. The Colonel took several swigs, spitting out all but the last one and handed it back to Daniel.  They talked, not loud enough for me to hear but I didn't need to. I knew what would be said. They both came back into the camp, Daniel retaking his seat and the Colonel slipped his boots on and walked off in the same direction I had earlier.

 

* * *

 

"I'm telling you Daniel, I'm disappointed in this place."  The Colonel announced, loudly, from my side. Sam was on point, followed by Daniel then Teal'c, Colonel O'Neill and I bringing up the rear. We're halfway to the gate and just finished our midday break. With any luck we'll be back in time for a hot meal in the commissary. It's sad that I'm looking forward to my first hot meal being institutional food.  
  
"What is there for you to be disappointed about? You got to play with guns and blow shit up for an entire week." Daniel turned around, walking backwards for a few steps.  
  
"Coffee."  
  
"Coffee?"  Daniel replied, sounding very indignant.  
  
"Colonel, if you don't mind me saying so," Sam spoke up, "you're not exactly the coffee connoisseur type."  
  
"She has a point Jack."  
  
"Hey, I appreciate a good cup of coffee."  
  
"Yes, but you buy Folgers, and enjoy gas station coffee"  
  
"So what? Does that not allow me to be disappointed that we didn't find any coffee here?"  
  
"It does indeed O'Neill." A humorous Jaffa will never cease to amaze me.  
  
"Jack, just because Javeete, sounds like Java, does not mean that it was named after coffee"  
  
Sam's shaking her head as she leads the way down the well established trail.  
  
"That's what you say." The Colonel huffed, amusement shining clearly in his tone of voice. "I think it does. It can't be a coincidence."  
  
"Remember Daniel, the Colonel has a thing against coincidences."  
  
"Oh, I remember Sam."  
  
"I'm just sayin', the Javeetes were way too awake. Too awake and functioning all the time. They have to be holding out on us! I bet you they have a secret stockpile of uber caffeinated coffee beans somewhere."  
  
'Uber caffeinated coffee beans.' I roll my eyes. Only Colonel O'Neill would think of that. Well, possibly Lou Ferretti, but the remark, entire conversation topic was very much Colonel O'Neill. I shake my own head and try not to let him know that I'm laughing.  
  
I like watching people. How they act around each other. I've been offworld with several teams, each team unique with its own culture. They tease each other, tell bad and raunchy jokes, the women of the SGC are not immune to this either, take bets on what will be found, two headed aliens or temple ruins, but most of all, they take care of each other. Congratulating jobs well done, and offering comfort when needed. As dorky as it sounds, it gives me warm fuzzies when I see them all healthy and having a good time and I know that if something happens when I'm with them, that they'll consider me one of them.  
  
"Too much thinking is bad for your health Doc." Says Colonel Jack O'Neill, SGC guru.  
  
"Mmm, is that your medical opinion sir?" I ask, watching as his eyes crinkle beneath the brim of his hat.  
  
"Nope." His voice light with a touch of a Minnesota accent coming through. "Just a little something I picked up along the way."

 

* * *

 

I'm half listening to Daniel and Sam jabber on about some artifact that another team brought back P3xsomething. Planetary designations mean nothing to me in the long run. The SGC has explored way too many planets for me to keep track of the designations and they all start the same P3X followed three or four numbers. I should take that back. Not all of them start with P3X, we are on Phoenix, designation PHX - 602.  
  
Teal'c was on point now leaving Sam free to converse more freely with Daniel. I'm not sure it could be classified as conversing though; I think they were talking at the same time more than they knew. But the hell if I could comprehend what they were saying. I talked with the Colonel some, catching up with what was happening on the base and of course about Cassie and her latest boy obsession. Every so often he'd point to Sam and Daniel and pick on them to get a rise out of me. It worked most of the time.  
  
"I've got it!" Colonel O'Neill announced, a sly smile on his face, the fingers of his left hand tapping out some unknown beat against the stock of his weapon. The constant chatter from the two doctors in front of us, decelerated to halt when Sam addressed the Colonel. "Got what sir?"  
  
"The perfect name. Phoenix Coffee," Colonel O'Neill held his hands in front of him, punctuating each word in the title with a short thrust "For when you need a little help, rising from the dead." He swept his hand across the bottom of his imaginary sign.  
  
"Phoenix Coffee?" I asked mulling the title over.  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Rising from the dead?" Daniel turned back to face the Colonel, one eyebrow cocked mimicking a certain team member.  
  
"Hey, you'd feel dead the morning after a wonderful night of debauchery." Colonel O'Neill managed to sound slightly offended and excited at the same time.  
  
"I am sure O'Neill speaks from sound experience DanielJackson."  
  
"Yeah, I'm gonna yield to the Colonel's wisdom on this one Daniel." Sam laughed and ducked her head.  
  
"Oh don't you even try and play innocent with me Carter."  
  
"Sir!" Sam squeaked and her head shot up so fast I thought it would fly off backwards.  
  
"Oh yeah Carter, I know."  
  
If the Colonel grins any wider his lower jaw is gonna fall off.  
  
"Harlan told me everything."  
  
"Harlan? Little short fat guy who made robots out of us?" Daniel inquired, his face screwed up in confusion as he turned to face the Colonel.  
  
"Nope. Lieutenant Colonel Harlan Beck."  
  
"Harley?" Sam turned fully around, a wide smile on her face, "Colonel you know Harley Beck?"  
  
"Yes, served with him in the Gulf. See him every so often as he stationed at Peterson. But, he said, that Carter here," he hiked his thumb over at Sam, "could drink her entire squadron, and then some under the table."  
  
Sam squared her shoulders, clearly taking pride in the Colonel's statement and turned back around. Stroke that pilot ego why don't you Colonel. I laugh and adjust my pack some. God I can't wait to get home. Get rid of this damn pack and turn the shower head on pulse and let it pound on my back, then just collapse into a boneless heap on my own bed and sleep.  For a very long time.  
  
Not asking anyone in particular I ask how many klicks were left until we reached the gate.  
  
"It is around six more klicks DoctorFraiser."  
  
There are only a few hills between the gate and Javeete and we've already past them. Nice easy walk from here on out. Two, three hours at most before we get to the gate. Sweet.  
  
We stop for a short break and I glance at my watch to find it's only 1330. We'd be back in time for a hot dinner, and today is Tuesday, slow cooked roast beef. The kind that's been cooking all day in the crock pot, or whatever the kitchen uses, and is so tender and just perfect! It's torture to have to work on level 22 on Tuesday. The staff starts serving dinner at 1730, but people start showing up at 1700, unable to stay away any longer.  
  
Roast Beef.  
  
"Did you say something Janet?" Daniel pokes in the shoulder to get my attention.  
  
"Yeah Doc, you're mumbling again." He stresses the last word. Cheeky Colonels shouldn't tease the one who holds the needle.  
  
"I was just thinking that it's Tuesday." I unscrew the lid on my canteen and take a drink.  
  
Teal'c nods and says his favorite two syllable word. "Indeed"  
  
"Roast beef on Tuesdays in the commissary." I feel the corners of my mouth lift up, and can't help thinking that I must look like a total dork.  
  
"With mashed potatoes and gravy, and biscuits." Sam chimes in, her eyes growing wide with the anticipation. I have got to remember not to sit with Sam's plate in sight tonight.  She pours gravy over her potatoes and roast beef, it's just kind of gross. I'm not much of a gravy person. I'll stick with butter for my potatoes.  
  
"Do not forget mac and cheese." Teal'c intones, his voice low and deadly sounding.  
  
Daniel walks over and claps a hand on Teal'c's large shoulder. "Teal'c, I don't think the cooks will forget anytime soon. Not after that threat you made."  
  
"Teal'c has the hots for home style macaroni and cheese." Sam explains, snickering.  
  
"Ah but kids, you are forgetting the most important part." The Colonel stood up from where he knelt to adjust his boots. He bounces a few times on his toes, his hands busy adjusting the brim of his hat, "Apple pie. Warm apple pie with ice cream."  
  
Ah yes, how could any of us forget Colonel O'Neill and pie? A match made in heaven. Him and any dessert really, but pie, followed by cake are the favorites, and everyone knows. I'm envious though, for all the crap that he eats, he hardly gains a pound.  
  
Bastard.

 

* * *

 

Light is flashing in front of my closed eyes providing me with a lovely lightshow of alternating red and black. An idiot with their bass on steroids car has parked outside my house. Make that two cars. The least they could do is be in time with each other. Give my head a rest from pounding in synch with both bass lines to just a single line. And the screaming. My neighbors must be at it again, or Cassie left the TV on some bad sorority slaughter horror flick. I'm supposed to be sleeping in my own bed and with out a care. Damn Murphy and his law.  
  
Sam is yelling at me to get up. She's yelling at the Colonel too. So is Daniel. I think I've lost the plot because last time I checked, Sam and Daniel didn't live in my house, and my pillow didn't smell like a dirty and sweaty Colonel O'Neill. And no, I didn't take any funny pills before going to sleep.  
  
I snap my eye lids back and regret it as the light sweeps back by as it sends the headache into over drive. I wait a few moments, giving the pain a chance to settle down before trying again. Only a mere slit this time, just enough see around me. Isn't it nice how you are blissfully ignorant one second, then you see something and your memory comes back. The only thing you can think of is: "Fuck."  
  
Remembering what happened also woke up the rest of me. I hurt. So bad. No use in denying it. It all gets worse as I feel myself giving in to the urge to cough. The dirt and whatever else has fallen down around the Colonel and me irritating the back of my throat.   I try to fight it off by swallowing, but there's not enough spit to do even that and I just make it worse.  
  
I just lay here, unable to move when the coughing finally stops. Tears running from tightly closed eyes, and my ears feel as if they will burst with each throb from my head. When I open my eyes again, the light is still bright but no longer shining in my face and I'm able to take a better look at my surroundings, ignoring that my name is being called out.  
  
I'm on my left side, head awkwardly bent at an angle and resting on the butt end of a P90 against the Colonel's torso. I'm certain that my skull is now intimately familiar with that P90 as well. My immediate surrounds consists of Colonel O'Neill's right arm and face, a tactical vest, a magazine for a nine millimeter pistol, a canteen with its lid off and leaking, and some lovely dirt-rock mix.  
  
I don't know what exactly happened. The last clear event being, Colonel O'Neill practically salivating over apple pie as we picked up again after taking a break. Then, just, falling. Bouncing maybe a better term as it wasn't as simple as they show on TV. No, you don't just fall straight down and land on your feet when the ground drops from under you. It's more of a pin-wheeling rag doll impression as you ricochet off the sides. Then just add another person and you end up in a contorted heap with company.  
  
"Janet! Can you hear me?"  
  
Yes I can hear you, everyone can hear you, and it's just that the still functioning portion of my brain isn't up for outward communication. It apparently isn't up to coordinated movements as I feel like Cassie's goldfish, the one that kept flopping out of the tank until the dog ate it.  Let's just hope that there's no dog here.  
  
Quarter functioning brains do not count, so I haven't a clue as to how many tries it took before I managed to turn over so that I could see the shouting people above me. I can't confirm they're people as my eyes can't seem to focus that far away.  
  
"Janet, are you okay?"  
  
The hell I'm okay. I feel like fucking crap. What kind of question is that? Am I okay. I just fell a long way against my will and had a nice inconsiderate landing and whacked my head on a damn rifle stock.  
  
I try to answer but It takes a few rounds of spitting debris out before I can get a something intelligible out. I hope it's intelligible. What comes out and what this part of my brain think aren't always the same. Colonel O'Neill would lie and say yes. I'm not Colonel O'Neill.  "Nope, I feel like crap."  
  
Although, I think I'm starting to sound like him.  
  
There's something digging into my shoulder blade and I try to shift my position which makes Daniel holler at me not to move. I'm not broken, just bruised. And concussed. Definitely concussed. Headache, nausea, dizziness, blurred vision, textbook. I ignore Daniel and move anyway.  
  
Ignoring him only brought Sam and Teal'c over and they started shouting to stop moving too. It's too late though, I can feel the ground below my right hand start to crumble and then the Colonel and I are going down the rabbit hole.

 

* * *

 

"Goddamnit Doc! Carter bites, Hailey kicks, and you, you've got a real mean right hook."  
  
My eyes snap open and my chest heaves as I draw in a rush of air and try to sit up at once. The Colonel gives the obligatory late warning of not to move, and I find myself spitting out enough swear words to turn a sailor blue and send my grandmother reaching for the bar of soap, and she's the one who taught me the Cajun ones!  
  
I'm pretty sure I've passed the line from bruised to broken.  
  
"Are you with me now?" He gives me a shake, his hand stilled strongly clasped around my upper arm. I nod, blinking a few times to clear the gunk from my eyes. My arms are slowly released and I take in our new location. Looks like I wasn't dreaming that we fell a second time.  
  
"Doc?"  
  
Shit. I spaced out on him.  "What?"  
  
"Just making sure you were still with me." He gives a small smile, biting the corner of his lip. He looks like crap and I can hear him wheezing as he takes shot quick breathes. "I'm not sure what happened. We were walking then here we are, and it appears that the hole we fell through closed up on top of us." He points upward and I crane my neck back feeling pain flare up along my neck, shoulders, and back.  
  
There's not much room in here.  The ceiling is low, barely clearing the top of the Colonel's head. It's all tinted green and for a moment I think that my concussion has seriously screwed up my vision. Then I see the chem light sticking out of a crack in the wall. Our 'room' isn't that roomy at all and I turn towards the Colonel, fascinated by the dust particles I can see in the air where the light is the brightest.  
  
Colonel O'Neill started to talk when he noticed I had turned my attention to him. "You're pretty banged up so I wouldn't move around too much if I were you. Definitely a concussion and your left arm's broken. I wrapped it while you were still out."  He stops talking, his breathing unsteady as he tries to replace the spent oxygen.  
  
I look down at my arm examining the splinting job. It didn't particularly hurt any more than the rest of me; my headache seems to drown everything else out. That and the constant urge to want to empty my stomach. Raising my right hand to my face, I run my finger tips over the left side of my face and back toward my ear, feeling the swelling and dried blood.  
  
"Looks like your face got bashed with the butt end of a rifle Doc."  
  
"It did. Hit your P90 the first time."  
  
"First time?"  
  
"Yeah, I came to but you were still out. Sam and Daniel where above us and stuff. I tried to move but then we were falling again." I turn my attention back to him, running in a critical eye over him. Caked blood and dirt on his face, right arm across his middle his hand tucked into his vest. His mouth hangs open slightly and his chest shakes as he tries to draw in a full breath. "How are you doing Colonel?"  
  
"Eh, I've had better days." He closes his eyes, tightly, and his face contorts as his breathing speeds up briefly.  
  
"Colonel?" Reaching out, I lay a gentle hand on his right arm.  
  
"Yeah, I'm here Doc. Just don't do so well in small spaces." He opens his eyes and gives a faint crooked smile.  
  
"What's wrong with your arm?"  
  
"Shoulder's busted or something, doesn't move right and hurts like a son of a bitch."  
  
The Colonel is either elusive and cryptic or straightforward in his answers. Usually more of the latter. But we have an understanding of sorts. He doesn't lie to me, I won't sugar coat stuff for him. Works rather well unless his team is around.  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Oh the usual, headache, nausea, dizziness, hurts to breathe, just a giant ball of hurt. Nothing much that you can do here Doc."  
  
I nod, his description on par with how I'm feeling. Nodding sets off the dizziness and I close my eyes as I feel myself listing off to the side. The Colonel stops me from falling completely over, pulling me back up right, before pushing my head down. I bring my knees up slowly as they are stiff and uncooperative and wrap my arms around my middle. My stomach is doing the jitterbug with the vertigo and if feels like someone is repeatedly 'goosing' me in the sides, only with hot knives instead of their fingers.  
  
"This sucks."  
  
"Yeah, it sucks. But don't worry, Daniel, Carter, and Teal'c'll get us outta here in a jiff."  
  
I raise my head a little, glaring at him from the corner of eyes. How the hell does he manage to sound this chipper when he has got to be hurting as much as I do. It's just wrong.  
  
He has the nerve to chuckle at me. "In the meant time, we've got a full canteen of water, two packs of peanut butter, pack of crackers, and whatever you may have in your vest pockets. Our packs didn't make it."  
  
"Peanut butter?" I bring my head up a little more and borrow a phrase from my daughter, 'W.T.F.'  
  
"Protein." He gives a lopsided shrug and holds one of the packets of peanut butter up, "They come in some of the MREs."  
  
"Ahhh." Makes sense, better than eating bugs. Shiver works its way up my spine and I groan as it makes everything hurt more. I try to pull my legs closer and tuck my head lower, it doesn't help really, but it makes me feel better.  
  
"Just hang in there, Janet." I feel the Colonel's arm drop across my back and pull me closer to his side, and I go with the motion. I'm cold.

 

* * *

 

I jerk awake, groaning as it fucking hurts to move. I blink a few times, hoping that maybe I'm just dreaming and having horrible cramps. But the soft green glow surrounding me and the Colonel's breathless voice voids that notion  
  
"Oops sorry Doc, I didn't mean to wake ya." His chest rattles under my head as he talks.  
  
I consider sitting up, but I give up the notion knowing it wasn't worth the effort or renewed pain. My arm and head don't hurt nearly as bad as they did, leaving my chest and abdomen vying for the part of most painful. I'm all for learning by experience, but this is one that I'd rather do without. I'm offered the canteen and a I take some sips, getting a weird sense of deja vu that makes me shiver. Which of course makes me hurt all over again.    
"Colonel?" I sound like my Great Aunt Ida, all raspy and harsh.  
  
"Yeah, Doc."  
  
"Done this before?"  
  
"Yeap. Don't worry, your brain's a bit scrambled."  
  
I snort, very un-lady like, and take another drink before handing it back to him. "How are you sir?"  
  
"I'm hanging in there Doc. Won't be long now." He puts his arm back around me, rubbing his hand on my upper arm a few times and let out a long sigh.  
  
After a long blink I open my eyes again, focusing on the nearly burnt out chem light on the ground in front of us. Eight hours. Well more than that I'm sure, but even if I had my watch on, I wouldn't be able to focus on it to read the numbers.  
  
"We missed dinner."  
  
"Commissary food isn't necessarily fine dining."  
  
"It's Tuesday. Roast Beef Tuesday, Colonel."  
  
"Ahh. Yeah, that is a good meal. Tell ya what" He coughs a few times, jarring me with the movement. "I'll make you roast beef, mashed potatoes with home made gravy, mac and cheese, and even some biscuits when we get out of here."  
  
"No gravy Colonel."  
  
"No gravy?" You'd think I scandalized him  
  
"It's disgusting."  
  
"Brown gravy?"  
  
"All gravy. It's just wrong."  
  
"You realize that this makes you disloyal to the south."  
  
"Embrasse mon tcheue." Disloyal my ass. What's a Minnesotan know about the south?  
  
He laughs again, tries to at least, comes out sounding like a strangled hyena. The Colonel tightens his hold on me, a sort of one arm hug.  "Love you too Doc."

 

* * *

 

Two things: I can't breathe and there's something heavy on top of me. The fact that I'm warm gives me hope that if I open my eyes that this heavy thing is really the body of Mel Gibson and we just had hot sex. And if I keep my eyes closed I can continue to believe this. It's better than being stuck in a hole with Colonel O'Neill. Not that Colonel O'Neill is bad; I mean if I have to be stuck in a hole with someone, he's top of the list. It's just the waiting to find out what will kill us first, lack of oxygen or internal bleeding. Both suck, and the Colonel would tell me nothing but old age is going to kill us.  
  
The problem with being a doctor in this situation is that it's rather hard to remain optimistic. I mean I know what can happen. Lack of oxygen causes blood to thicken, which makes your heart work harder, which raises your blood pressure way up and if you don't blow a blood vessel, your heart gives out and your brain, which was already low on the oxygen, is now deprived of blood too. That equals death by the way.  
  
Let's not forget the internal bleeding. Blood pooling in the abdominal cavity instead of staying in the arteries and veins it's supposed to be in. Like brakes on a car, not enough fluid, results in lack of pressure. Lack of pressure means your car ain't stopping. Only the human body isn't a car. Not enough blood means, lack of pressure to pump the hemoglobin to be oxygenated and then sent to the brain. But instead of not stopping like a car, the human body just shuts down. Once again, death due to lack of oxygen. It's amazing how much one simple little gas makes the human body tick.  
  
I won't even get started on the concussion. Inter-cranial swelling does nothing to stomp down my pessimistic side, rather it feeds it like a shot of adrenaline. The human body is an engineering marvel. So many different systems that all work together functionally, most of the time. There are fail safes too, so many of them that even the biggest engineers and safety sciences people gush with excitement.  
  
But what makes them all cry, is that it's all completely dependent upon the body working with optimal resources. The one cockup in an otherwise magnificent machine.  
  
If the Colonel was awake he'd tell me to shut up and stop thinking. I don't even have to open my eyes, to check and see if he is. I'm thinking loud enough he'd tell me that. I open them anyway, just to check and see what's going on and hope that maybe, I'll be able to tranquilize my overgrown pessimistic side.  
  
Yeah right. Opening my eyes just feeds its hyperactivity. Pessimistic side just dances in glee as it sees the increasingly dim glow of the chem light that signals another eight hours or so have passed.  I was right too, the Colonel's out, not even a grumble as I painfully shift around, trying to find a position that would allow me to draw in more air.  
  
And yes, the pessimistic side is telling me that there is no position, that there's just no more air to breath. Which is probably true. But I'm not going to tell it that. It needs a name, I'm tired of calling it pessimistic side. It's too long and clumsy. I think I'll call it Lucy. Lucy van Pelt.  
  
I'm rambling now, incoherently too as I just named my pessimistic side Lucy van Pelt.  Another symptom of hypoxia, lack of coherent thought. My headache is back, not that it ever left; it's just tired of being ignored and is throwing a hissy fit to make up for it. Lucy of course cheers pom-poms and everything. And me, I'm going to sleep, not that it's really optional. Non-functioning parts of my brain have gotten together with Lucy and have decided that it's time to go to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Lucy's whining. Things aren't going her way after all. The Colonel was right. They did come for us. At least that's the theory that I'm going to go with. The big dog eating me like ours ate Cassie's goldfish is just not a pleasant thought. Plus I think Lucy would like that; feed right into her doom and gloom, it's-the-end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it-and-I-feel-spectacular attitude.  
  
So the Colonel was right, not that I doubted him, that was all Lucy, we are getting out of here. The question is now just how much of us. I've forgotten the art of breathing and lack of oxygen to the brain is not cool. Not cool at all. But, we are getting out of here. An SG team is here and they are causing an unbelievable ruckus; yelling to each other and static, muffled, shouting coming through radios. Combine that with the lighting effects inside my lids from the flashlights they are swinging around and I'm reminded of that club that Sam and I went a while back.  
  
I want to scream at them to stop manhandling me like I'm some sailor's sea bag. I want to tell them that I hurt and can't breathe, and that my head hurts. I want to tell them that there's something wrong with the Colonel that he was barely breathing when I was awake the last time. But I can't. I tried to but the only thing that happened was my eyes opening, but not focusing. Just sitting in my sockets and not doing a thing. It's like being my own prisoner. Some one notices though, I can hear them commenting how the lights are one but no one's shopping. Which does nothing to quell my uprising panic.  
  
Am I dead? Did I die and this is just some left over electrical impulse that made my eyes open. Trapped inside a useless no longer functioning body for all of eternity. Is this really the end, and if it is, why the hell didn't the reaper come and take my soul. I thought they were supposed to do that as a courtesy for violent deaths. And plummeting this far and then suffocating seems pretty violent to me. I agree with George, fuck you Rube.  I should so stop watching television with Cassie.  
  
On the other hand, I couldn't have died. Lucy would be gangbusters over that, and yet, she's quite as a mouse. A dead mouse. Which means I'm alive. And if only to confirm this thought, they manhandle me again and I hurt.

 

* * *

 

 

"Janet, are you awake?"  
  
No. I'm not. Go away. I'm sleeping and I deserve it. If I could move, I'd swat at that voice.  Whap! And it'd be gone and I could go back to sleep.  
  
Maybe I did swat them. They haven't said anything for a while.  
  
"Come on now." Ugh, they came back, who ever they are. "No need to be taking lessons from Jack now."  
  
Jack. Only a handful of people call the Colonel by his first name. All guys mind you, and this wasn't a guy's voice. Definitely female and the only woman who called the Colonel, Jack was Sydnea, and only in the confines of the infirmary.  Which means I'm in the infirmary. Which just ruins the entire Mel Gibson hot sex fantasy.  
  
If only nonfunctioning parts of my brain would get with it I could wake up. I need to find out about Cassie, and the Colonel. I'm working on it though. Slowly, but it's hard to want to be awake and coherent when I know it will only bring back the pain that I'm not in now.  
  
Usually, I start to drift off about now with who ever is talking slowly fading to black, very movie-esque. Only we're going the opposite this time. Sydnea keeps talking and I actually hear the words instead of just humming. They get clearer and louder as the rest of my body kicks into gear. I keep expecting the pain to hit like it did before. I know it shouldn't, I know that Warner or Carmichael has already put me on medication for that, but it doesn't stomp out the expectation.  
  
"I know you're awake, so quit playin' opossum." Sydnea's using that tone I've only heard her use with Daniel and the Colonel before. It works too, they usually get their act together and come to. I get what my grandfather called the heebie jeebies when I find myself responding to her commands.  
  
Eyes opening, limbs moving, a just a side of pain and disconnectedness to go along.  My lungs seemed to have relearned the art of breathing while I've been out. I always did advocating learning through osmosis. That suffocating feeling is gone, replaced by the cool rush of oxygen being forced up my nose.  I understand why the Colonel is always pulling at it, it's just feels wrong, like my nose has been violated or something. That, and it stinks. Yick.  
  
"See, I told you were awake."  
  
Awake yes, in full control of faculties, no. It's like watching a bad home movie where the camera's all shaky and they haven't quite worked out how to pan without whipping the camera around. The lens is blurred all to hell, and the audio, while completely understandable is a bit off. It settles down fairly quickly, thankfully, allowing me to focus on the two people on either side of the bed, Sydnea and Teal'c.  
  
"Good afternoon DoctorFrasier." Teal'c's sonorous voice seemed to float down and wrap around me. A very warm and soothing sound, not what you would expect when you first lay eyes on him. "It is good to see you are no longer in a coma DoctorFrasier"  
  
"Thanks Teal'c" That's what I tried to say. I know that's not what came out as my tongue adhered itself to the roof of my mouth. Teal'c, bless him, gives me ice chips. Mmmm melted ice goodness.  
  
Sydnea steps in next, firing off a round of questions. I feel like being in high school and having a pop quiz thrown at me when I haven't read the assignments. She smiles so my attempts at answering must have been good. I hate the way my voice sounds. She mentions something about going to get Dr. Warner and heads off.  
  
"O'Neill fairs well. He has yet to awaken, but he has become restless, a sure sign." He offers another spoonful and I nod in acceptance, pleased to note that my head doesn't try to explode. "Cassandra will be most pleased to find you conscious upon her return from the commissary."  
  
Commissary, roast beef. Damn. "Stealing my roast beef." Once again, what I want to say and what comes out aren't the same. Getting better though.  
  
"SergeantMundy has assured me that there will be plenty of roast beef once you have recovered." Teal'c actually smiles a bit. "O'Neill will be envious."  
  
Heh, Teal'c's got that right. Colonel O'Neill will be jealous.  
  
Doctor Warner comes in, asks the same questions that Sydnea did, and to my satisfaction I sound a lot better now. He also points out everything. It's weird how you can completely ignore something until it's pointed out. Like the weight of a Plexiglas cast on my left arm, my ribs, which are luckily only badly bruised, the pull of stitches to fix the internal bleeding, and the pull of medical tape on my neck holding the central line in place. Seems I scared them good trying to bleed out on them. Twice.  
  
Doctor Warner starts to fill me on the Colonel as well, but I can't seem to focus enough on him to understand.  Teal'c told me he was doing well and that's enough for the moment. Warner catches on to the fact that my blinks are getting longer and that he's wasting good oxygen and says that he'll be back later.  
  
I manage to stay awake long enough to see Cassie, and give a very poor, but no less meaningful one arm hug.

 

* * *

 

The Colonel has the most comfortable chair I have ever sat in. I'm currently trying to figure out how to get this, fatty-boom-ba-latty chair, that's bigger than me, out of his basement TV room and into my house. I think I'll have to recruit Teal'c to help. I can't decide where to put it though, at home or in my office at the mountain.  
  
I seem to spend more time in the mountain than at home, so maybe put it there. It would be way more comfortable than the cot that's in there now, and I could get in some great naps in this between patients, or when I'm there for the long haul patching someone up. On the other hand, the Colonel would drag it from my office and put it next to the bed he's keeping watch at. I'd never get him to leave then. He would get sleep though, but then all I'd hear is him complaining that I let him sleep there and his ass is numb. I can't win.  
  
"Mom do you want anything more to drink?" Cassie's standing next to me, a little anxious. I think she had accepted that the rest of SG1 goes off and gets hurt all the time, but I'm there to patch them up. Not this time, I came back needing to be fixed, and unable to help out her 'Jack.' Yes, she has declared partial ownership of him. So it's been a rough couple of weeks.  
  
"I'm fine Cass, thank you though."  
  
"Okay. I'll be right back." She hesitates then is off, out of the room around the corner and I wince as I hear her run up the stairs. Even at 17, she still runs up stairs. Oh to be that young and full of energy again. I feel like an old decrepit person and I don't think I'll ever be able to tell the Colonel to stop complaining about being or feeling old ever again.  
  
Speaking of amateur astronomers, I can hear one on the floor above me, his uneven gait as he goes about directing his troops. The troops being Daniel and Teal'c as the Colonel, walking orthopedic mess that he is, is not allowed to do anything. Broken ribs and collar bone, and busted his knee up, which will be fixed once he's more mobile and stronger, and the chest infection that we both had from inhaling so much dirt, brick, and mortar dust. Technically, he should be sitting down here, numbing his ass like I am. But I don't have the energy to go up there and inform him of this, and I trust Teal'c to keep an eye on him. Several times I have heard Teal'c stop Colonel O'Neill from doing something.  
  
Our little adventure down the rabbit hole that just about killed us, made us local celebrities in the Javeete archeological circle. It wasn't just a weak spot in the ground after all. It was, but we didn't fall into caves, or mines, or a trap left by someone hunting. No, we fell right into the old city that their scholars have been looking for, for years. Only, they've been looking in the wrong directions. They are all as excited as amateur astronomers who get comets named after them... it's incurable  
  
Dinner's just about ready all we are waiting for is for Sam to get back. The boys, yes I just referred to Colonel O'Neill, Daniel, and Teal'c as boys, forgot to get rolls for dinner. There was almost a nuclear meltdown when that came to light and Sam offered to go and get some. I distinctly remembering helping them make a list yesterday; I know that rolls were on it too. They deny this and claim they got everything on the list. They can't lie worth shit; they probably didn't even remember to take the list with them.  
  
All we are waiting on is Sam and for the potatoes to be mashed. Excuse me, I mean whipped. There was great debate earlier over this. Daniel informed Jack that technically they wouldn't be mashed, if he put them in the mixer and used the whip beater. It came down to Jack telling Daniel that if he wanted them to be mashed, he was more than happy to mash all five pounds by hand himself. Daniel said using the mixer was fine, he was just pointing out the difference.  
  
Sam's arrival ended that argument, but only because the Colonel had someone else to focus on, informing Sam that she was still banned from the kitchen. One little offworld cooking incident seems to have blacklisted her for life. She can cook. Not great, but she holds her own. But that's okay, the guys can do all the cooking and clean up, we're not going to argue.  
  
I can hear the table being set, plates thunking against the solid wood and the silverware clanking together. Their voices drift down the stairs, sometimes loud enough to be understood, but most of the time just a constant hum punctuated occasionally with laughter or indignant cries. Dinner with SG1 is something that I don't think I'll ever be able to explain properly. It's easier, not necessarily safer, just to experience it yourself.  
  
"O'Neill would you kindly remove yourself from the vicinity."  
  
I have to laugh as I hear Teal'c's request that Colonel O'Neill get out of the way so they could put the food on the table. Sam gets back and is being hailed a hero by Daniel. She road her bike today and her heavy boots make it easier to track her movements on the floor above me; from the kitchen to the dinning room, before she hollers at the Colonel.  
  
"Colonel, do you mean to tell me, you made all of this," Referring to the promised roast beef, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese. "And you didn't make any gravy."  
  
"Daniel and Teal'c made most of it seeing as I'm short an arm at the moment. I just directed. The corn however, I made the corn."  
  
"He poured two cans into the pot and turned the burner on." Thank you Daniel for clarification.  
  
"But there's no gravy?"  
  
"Nope"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The Doc didn't want any."  
  
"But you like gravy, Sir. A little food with your gravy."  
  
"Yes Carter, I like gravy. You love gravy. Daniel and Teal'c enjoy gravy as well. But the Doc? She abhors it. Therefore no gravy."  
  
"Just like that?"  
  
"Yes Carter, just like that." I can hear the eye rolling from down here.  
  
The smell is starting to get to me. It has all afternoon, but even more so now that the food is out in the open. I'm almost reluctant to leave this chair, I still feel like crap, and I'm a bit miffed that the Colonel can be full of so much energy. He'll crash later, this I know, but that's not my point. The slow progression of footsteps coming down the stairs alerts me to his arrival. I leave my focus away from the doorway, hoping to catch an unguarded look at the Colonel when he comes in.    
  
I succeed, and my medical opinion is, he looks like crap. Worn out and in pain, but won't rest or take anything for the pain. It's like arguing with a fence post. I bet he's passed out before the opening credits on the movie later. He catches on to me watching him and quickly plasters a grin on his face.  
  
"Food's ready, I think the faster we get through dinner and to desert, the sooner Carter will stop complaining about there being no gravy."  He turns to face the stairs, raising his voice so that Sam could hear the last part of his statement.  
  
She yells something back down, but the Colonel just laughs and shakes his head.  
  
"Ready doc?"  
  
"Yeap," I slowly rise out of the chair, standing still for a few moments before heading toward the Colonel and doorway. "Colonel?"  
  
"Doc?"  
  
"How much for the chair?"  
  
"It's not for sale."  
  
"Are you sure?" I ask from the top of the stairs, the Colonel halfway up.  
  
"Yes, how could I sell a chair that's better than sex?"  
  
"Oh really?" I raise an eyebrow at him and smirk. Colonel O'Neill blushes, bright red up his neck and face.  
  
"For cryin' out loud." He mutters, pulling himself up another step. "Get a move on it Doc. We still have grace to get through before we eat."  
  
"Grace?" Am I surprised? Mildly so.  
  
"Yes, and Teal'c loves new material! I'm pretty sure he's tired of all the ones that I learned in catechism class so, your up!"  
  
"I don't suppose 'good food, good meat, good god let's eat' will suffice?" I ask as we enter the dinning room.  
  
"DanielJackson has already shared that one with us." Teal'c does his nodding thing and Daniel ducks his head.  
  
Taking my seat I try to figure out what to say. I haven't said grace in so long. It's weird being asked, well told, to say grace with a bunch of people who aren't well all that religious. They aren't just a bunch of people, they are family. Then throw in what they do for a living, battling false gods and what not, that has got to make you wonder about everything.  
  
"Doc?" The Colonel's tone impatient.  
  
"Just you wait a minute. The food's not going to run off your plate." Oh lord I sounded like my mother. I can't really believe that I just said that to the Colonel either, at his house.  "Well, to whomever is listening this afternoon, thank you for watching over the Colonel and I and the people who worked hard to free us. Thank you for great family and friends support us in hard times. May we continue to go forth and return safely with your blessing. Amen." I feel sappy. I fight the urge to hold my breath as I wait for a reaction.  
  
"Nice Doc." The Colonel smiles a little, a genuine one, his head still bowed. He claps his hands together and brings his head up, making a quick sweep of the table. "All right, let's eat. Cassie you start, pass to the left, and the first person who complains about the lack of gravy, gets to do all of the dishes, roasting pan included; by hand, no dishwasher in this house."


End file.
